Time Again
by anaellefire
Summary: Tumblr Promptfill: Uruvielnumenesse- Time travel AU: Where Darcy Lewis is a time traveler who meets her love in a different order than the norm. Her last visit to him is his first meeting of her. Now that he knows her fate, will Loki use everything in his power to change the course of her future, or will he have the strength to let her go forever?
1. Salut

**Summary**: Darcy Lewis was always something more than human to Loki. A time traveler, a kindred spirit, a friend, a lover, a savior. The first time he encounters this woman who will become so important to him, he loses her. Now that he knows her fate, will he use everything in his power to change the course of her future, or will he have the strength to let her go forever?

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**Prompt Fill**: Uruvielnumenesse on Tumblr: Time travel AU: Where Darcy Lewis is a time traveler who meets her love in a different order than the norm. Her last visit to him is his first meeting of her.

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**AN**: I've had this wonderful idea for a fic bubbling around in my head for weeks, just waiting to pop onto paper, but I wasn't sure how to start it. So thanks to Uruvielnumenesse on tumblr for the idea!

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_Salut_

_ A French word used for both "hello" and "goodbye"_

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He lounged on his bed, absent mindedly tossing a glass orb in his hand, light catching the soft white of the glass and projecting prisms around his room. The gift was a small sorcerer's orb his mother had given him as a boy. It had come from Vanaheim, as a tribute to the old ways of sorcery and encourage Loki's practice in magic. His mother had enchanted it with a simple scrying spell, and as boy, he learned early on the consequences of being able to see the future, and the futility of trying to change it.

Up. Down. Up and down. The repetitive motion was calming, like pacing. His emerald eyes were open, filled with knowledge and mirth, but his gaze was faraway, focusing on spells he'd memorized earlier; the incantations ghosting across his lips. His goal was to cast a spell without a single utterance of a syllable, and practice makes perfect.

A trail of magic vibrated into the room. He stilled his hand, squinted his eyes and set his jaw trying to identify the user's signature. Curious. He'd never before encountered such magic, and so he moved to sit at the edge of his bed, waiting with intrigue for the spell to unfold.

In the blink of an eye, a woman appeared in the center of his chambers. She was hunched over her knees, on the floor, covered in snow, and dressed in an ill fitting military uniform of some sort. Her breaths were shallow, rapid and labored, and melting snow slopped off her frame with each respiratory effort. As he slowly approached her, he could hear quiet sobs mixed with what appeared to be shallow laughter.

"Excuse me, dear lady," he began, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as he crouched next to her, the scrying orb forgotten next to him.

"Loki?" she asked blindly, exhaustion and relief evident in her saccharine voice. "Please, just stay with me?" She let out a long exhale and turned her face to him. They both gasped and slightly moved away from each other; maybe they startled each other, maybe to get a better look at one another; he couldn't be certain.

She was blue. Jotun blue. The creature before him was rather small for a Frost Giant, he noted. But her eyes. They were not the red color of the frozen monsters... they were a brilliant blue. Almost like his mother's. And her face, her beautiful face—so full of youth... and dwindling vitality—was framed by dark ridges raised from her skin. In his appraisal and his curiosity, his gaze locked on an ancient, alien, dagger embedded deep within her abdomen. The dark, crimson blood seeping through her jacket perplexed him further. She bore characteristics of a Jotun, but her eyes, the blood, her size... He reached for the blade.

"Don't touch it!" she cried. He looked into her eyes, jerking his hands back and holding them up in surrender to her command. "If you touch it, you'll lose your magic; and if you try to heal me, it will only kill me faster."

"What are you?" Loki demanded.

"Dying." She said, rather smartly. Still, his eyes widened at her statement.

"You are mortal." It was more of a bewildered statement, than a question. Her eyes were beginning to close, but he had yet to receive the answers he wanted. Why was she in Asgard, in his private quarters, of all places? How did she get past his wards? Who was she? How did she know him? He wasn't going to let her go so easily. "You called me by my given name, not my title—I am a prince of Asgard! How do you know me? How are you here, in my chambers?" He gently shook her shoulders to keep her from drifting into an eternal sleep. He had never before met a mortal, much less one so close to expiration. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement and a slow smile graced her face. Boldly, she reached a hand up to his cheek.

"You're so young," she began. When her delicate skin made contact with his, the ridges faded, and her complexion shifted to a creamy white. If he thought she was beautiful before, she was absolutely divine in this form.

"Are you some kind of shape shifter?" he slowly took her hand in his and gathered her head in his lap, careful not to pull her rich brown hair with his ministrations. With so much physical contact between them, he felt a familiar hum. "You are radiating my magic." She was fixated on studying his every feature. "I beg you, tell me who you are."

A shadow of sadness swept over her visage and her eyes sparkled with tears threatening to spill over her long lashes. He could feel his magic slowly draining from her, like the dagger was siphoning it away.

"I've never seen you so young before." Her voice was dripping with humor and, simultaneously, an ache of sorrow.

"Please, at least tell me your name?" His green eyes searched hers with fervor, trying to decipher the knowledge they held. His request was desperate, his magic had almost entirely faded from her. He watched black lines spider their way across her porcelain skin. She gripped his hand tightly and twisted her other in the soft fabric of his tunic. Her muscles contracted and she cried out at the pain.

"If you will not tell me who you are, then let me help you. There must be something-"

"-I saved your life." She said through clenched teeth, sweat dotted her brow as she struggled to fight the pain. Her muscles relaxed and she took a few deep breaths.

"How can that be possible? I have never seen you before in all my 1,000 years." She gave him a hard look when he mentioned his age, and she pursed her lips.

"Usually when someone mentions that they saved someone's life, there's a call for gratitude. You should be thanking me, oh Prince of Asgard." There was a fire in her eyes, but then her gaze left him; to travel to some other place and time. "You told me this was going to happen." She looked into his eyes then. "You said that I was going to die in your arms." She choked a little on that statement.

"My lady-" he began

"Darcy."

"Lady Darcy,"

"No. Just 'Darcy'. You've never pulled that formal B.S. with me and I sure as hell don't want you to start now... at the end." She interjected.

"How do I know you? If you are dying, how will I ever see you again to know the answers?"

She was silent for a moment, chewing her bottom lip and gripping him tighter as she chose her words. "I am a time traveler." Loki began to open his mouth, but she gave him a pointed look and continued. "All questions will be held until the end of the lecture," she said crossly, drawing her eyebrows into a harsh line. "Someday, Loki, you will see me again. I can't tell you when, or where, but whatever you do, don't go looking for me. It's against the time traveler companion's code of ethics. You'll just fuck everything up if you do that." He nodded, completely fixated on what she was saying.

"I can't tell you why I travel, we haven't figured it out yet, but the first time it happened I was 10. I can sort of control it now, and it's something we've been working on, but I mostly try to live in the moment, and go when Time pulls me to a place where I'm supposed to be." Her skin turned a sickly, ashen color and he could see her strength draining. She swallowed hard before continuing.

"This dagger was meant for you. It carries a special poison to drain you first of your magic and your immortality, leaving you vulnerable and mortal. He was going to kill you." Her eyes were distant at the memory.

"Whom? Tell me more, please?"

Darcy weakly shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's almost Time."

"Stay just a moment longer? I beg you. Fight it." He took her hand in his again, trying to hold her with him, to keep her for a moment longer. With the rest of her strength, she put her palm against the contours of his jaw one last time.

"Promise me you won't give up hope?" He hadn't the slightest idea to what she was referring, but he nodded against her hand, bringing his to hers to give her strength. "And Loki?" She cleared her throat to fight back emotion.

"Yes, Darcy?" His voice was barely a whisper, her name rolling so eloquently from his tongue. He did not yet want to say goodbye to this strange woman, the enigma of their relationship, and the intimacy of her touch.

"Remember how much I love you." Her smile was weak, but its radiance did not go unnoticed. "I have always been yours." His heart stopped at her confession. He opened his mouth to say something to her, he never was entirely sure what, but before he could untangle his silver tongue, she simply faded away, like she had never existed; and he was left a confused wreck, kneeling on the floor of his room, trying to accept that some stranger who professed their love for him, just died in his arms. He was left alone, feeling hollowed out, and wondering how long it would be before he saw her again—how long they would have together—for she, too, looked so very young. A tear splashed against the stone flooring and mixed with the puddle left from the snow that had melted off her. He did not breathe in until his lungs burned from his stillness.

The only thing left between them now was Time.


	2. Komorebi

**AN: **I forgot that I wanted to give you guys this part before I called it quits for the night. I was originally going to have it at the end of the first chapter, but I really like the idea of using untranslatable words as chapter titles, and _Komorebi_ was a perfect title for this short scene.

It won't be often that we see things from Darcy's POV, but this is a very important moment for her, and this scene is absolutely crucial to the development of the rest of their story. So, bonus for you readers!

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_Komorebi_

_A Japanese word for the sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees._

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The sky was overcast, and its gray hue, fighting what was left of September sunshine, seemed to wash out the already neutral tones of the grass in the late summer plain. Five years after she disappeared, Darcy Lewis returned to the clearing in a field outside of her childhood home in upstate Vermont. She would frequently come here to sit under this very willow tree to have picnics and read books, escaping from her brothers.

A strong breeze blew over the plain, making the tendrils of the tree above wave over her in a soothing rhythm, like a natural mobile sent to soothe her nerves and distract her mind. She could vaguely feel the soft caress of the blades of grass against her skin as well. Strands of her hair blew over her face, getting stuck in her eyelashes and the chapped skin of her lips. But she didn't care, didn't have the energy to brush them away. Let the elements cradle her in her last moments.

Her eyes stayed open, unblinking, her vision spotting with the rays of sun breaking through the foliage and peppering her with warmth. As she lay there, comforted by nostalgia, she had one last significant thought. If she was going to die, this was as good of a place as any. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she felt like she smiled, although she couldn't be sure if her lips actually curled in response to her emotions. The noise of the approaching storm was like a soothing lullaby, sang by a parent to their children as they went to bed. And the rain drops that fell against her skin almost seemed like a thousand kisses, giving her one last sense of butterflies in her stomach before she started to drift away.

Dying was much like falling asleep. She could feel her body start to relax, muscles she never thought she had. She concentrated on the sensation of each body part as the feeling slipped away, much like meditation. She focused on her big toe on her left foot, and the back of her right knee. The ease of tension from the blade in her abdomen. She felt the depression of her spine in the grass, and her hands relax into a neutral, open position; a glass orb rolling away from her grip. There was a lightness in her chest, and she took one last, shallow breath, not becoming alarmed in the slightest when she was unsuccessful. She was contently drifting to sleep.

The last thing Darcy Lewis saw was a flash of light.

She was gone just as the rain came down in torrents.

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Song Inspiration and recommended listening: Slipknot- Vermillion Part 2  
The music video is really beautiful and I was hoping to have caught some of that and translated it to Darcy.


	3. Natsukashii

_Natsukashii_

_A Japanese word meaning "suddenly, euphorically, triggered by experiencing something for the first time in years"_

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It was a day of celebration, with a banquet and a ball, full of merriment and grandeur. He never understood why his mother insisted on such lavish functions over such a trivial matter as a birthday, but he obliged her any way. With all the invitees, he almost wondered if she had secretly begun to try and find him a suitable woman with whom to settle down. This year, his she had insisted upon a masquerade to follow the feast; which, he had to admit, was to his liking. It was so much easier to be mischievous in relative anonymity.

The exquisite meal passed as they always did: Volstagg recounting tales of his valor against sheer promise of death in the face of the enemy; Fandral was dripping with women fawning over him like succubi with beauty rivaled only by their vapidity; Thor wasn't much different, women surrounded him singing their siren songs, vying for his attention in hopes of being the next Queen of Asgard. It was pitiful.

He hadn't truly planned on partaking in the recreations, just being visible enough at the party to have his presence be known, and then, when his presence was forgotten, he hoped to return to his quarters and continue his studies. His focus, as of late, was delving deep into the theory of time travel. It had been over a thousand years, but he never forgot the gorgeous creature named Darcy, or her tragic circumstance when she appeared before him all those years ago.

He stood in a secluded corner of the great hall, watching the people dancing, and listening in on the conversations that various guests were having with him; he had cast many doubles throughout the crowd, giving his guests the idea that he cared about their presences and actively listening to their trivial conversations. Sipping the last of his mead, he set the chalice on a nearby table and turned to take his leave, but the beautiful sight of his mother stilled his path, she had come dressed in an elegant mask of a golden, pale-faced owl, infinite in her wisdom and unparallelled in her foresight. She had that gleam in her eye he had come to recognize as her own expression of mischief. Either she was up to something, or she knew something.

"Loki," She said in her comforting voice.

"Mother," he slightly bowed his head and swept his arm to the side for her to join him.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, darling?"

"As much as I love a good celebration, I am afraid that all the attention I've received this eve has rather worn me out. I've sent out hundreds of specters just to keep all the admirers at bay, lest they find the real me." He gave a soft chuckle.

"And while you simply satisfy your friends' desires to celebrate your birth with a simple slight of magic, you could leave to do what you please, but you have stayed this late." Loki chuckled and adjusted his mask, the black feathers of the raven blending perfectly with his own dark hair.

Something swept through the room; a breeze, or a vibration, or... Magic. Every Loki in the room stopped what he was doing to turn their heads towards the source. Did one of them catch sight of a woman with long brown hair? He wasn't sure. He had them all excuse themselves from their conversations and walk away to disappear inconspicuously. He felt whole again as they converged, and he realized that his mother was still talking to him, her eyes sparkling brighter than they were before.

"Loki, would you be so kind as to please your withering old mother with a dance?"

"Oh, Mother, I was simply waiting for the right girl to come along and ask. It does something to one's ego when her body is moving with mine, and yet her eyes are constantly searching for my brother." He tucked her arm in his and lead her to the crowd of people moving to the rhythm, his eyes piercing the celebrants, looking for the source of the magic in the room.

He and his mother turned and swayed around the floor to the waltz. She was reminiscing on all the mischief he caused as a young boy, and was reveling at how handsome of a man he'd grown to be. After all, it wasn't every day someone reached their 2,500th birthday. They moved gracefully throughout the room.

"You complain that you cannot find a partner who will give their undivided attention, and yet I feel like you are looking for someone else, yourself. What is it? Are you now embarrassed to dance with your mother in your new age?" she teased. Loki opened his mouth to say something, before closing it and apologizing, eliciting a laugh from his mother.

Just before they came to the part of the dance where they were to switch partners, Frigga smiled greatly at him, "Happy birthday, my son."

They twirled apart and his back was now to his new partner. The first thing he noticed was the floral notes of her perfume, a scent not native to Asgard, but nonetheless enticing. His partner walked towards him, then, the click of her heels on the stone floor as she approached him made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A slender hand reached out and brushed across his shoulder blades before sliding down his arm. Her nails were dark green, a fashion not in the slightest Asgardian; the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

He turned and faced her then, his smirk quickly growing into a grin, which he desperately tried to hide as he bowed and held his hand out to her. "Darcy?" The only answer he received was an upwards tilt of her chin, a quirk of her deep red stained lips, and a brow raised above the gold lace of her mask. Gods, he could hardly speak once he drank in the sight of her. The leather of her dress, accented by gilded laurels, clinging to her every curve... When he'd last seen her, she was encumbered in someone else's garments. This dress, however, was made for her, a second skin. Something so to his liking, he wondered if he had created it himself.

She pressed close to him as they danced. It was horribly distracting to say the least, not to mention the sultry eyes she was making at him from behind her mask were about to set him aflame. "And how many years of lies and chaos are we celebrating this year, Loki?" She smiled when he stammered over his new age. While he was concentrating on not making a fool of himself in the presence of this beautiful woman, he almost failed to recognize the approach of the partner exchange. Quickly, he made his move.

"Would you mind accompanying me to somewhere a little more private?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Her back hit a large bookshelf as he teleported them to the library. "Forgive me, you are probably unfamiliar with-," He began to apologize, but she simply chuckled and ran her hands through the lapel of his tunic.

"It's okay. I'm actually pretty used to it." There was mischief in her voice.

He remained still, pressed against her, and inhaled her scent at her neck. He wanted to stay there forever with her, but she cleared her throat.

"Geeze, I've hardly been here twenty minutes, and you're already getting fresh with me against the stacks."

"Apologies." He gave a boyish smile and stepped away, placing his hands behind his back and beginning to slowly pace about the room.

He watched the delicacy of her wrist as she thumbed over the tomes on the shelves around her. "I'm surprised you didn't just teleport us straight to your room when I first showed up." She flashed him a devil's grin. "How long has it been?" she asked, still examining the shelves.

"Since... since I saw you last?" His voice seemed to hollow out at the memory. She turned her head to nod for him to continue. "Approximately 1500 years."

"Woah." She turned to face him. "We've never had such a long break before." She sucked in her bottom lip and began to chew on it; the plump, stained skin of her lip between her teeth doing something to his insides. She flashed a grin when she saw his fixation. "How many times have I come to visit you?" There was a playfulness to her tone, but he sat down on a chaise longue, removed his mask and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He rested his elbows on his knees and turned the mask over and over in his hands. The cushion of the chair dented as she gracefully sat next to him.

"Just once." He paused for a moment, wondering if she would have any reaction to his next statement. "You died."

"What?" Darcy asked in a whisper. Loki wasn't sure how to answer her, so he kept turning the mask over and over in his hands, trying to find features of it he may have missed before; the number of feathers around the eyes, the hardness of the beak... She took the mask from his hands and set it next to her, and clasped her hands around his. "What happened?... How old was I?"

"You wouldn't tell me anything." He brushed a strand of long hair behind her ears. "You appeared in my quarters, and had been stabbed in the abdomen with an enchanted knife." Loki very gently removed the mask from her face, revealing her cerulean eyes, staring widely into his. "A knife specifically meant to kill me." Her eyes seemed far away, as if she was searching for a memory that had yet come to pass. "You told me you saved my life." He quickly kissed her then, his lips perfectly melding to hers in his haste. Gods, she felt like home. It was a fleeting moment of paradise. "You weren't much older than you appear to be now. And you demanded that I thank you, but I don't know how." Her eyes were glossy, like she was on the verge of tears. "I don't know who you are to me—I don't know what you are." She looked at him then, and dabbed at the rims of her eyes with ringed fingers. "Are we wed?" He asked. "You have given me cause to think that we are intimate at least; and, you radiate my magic..."

"You're my king," she interjected.

His eyebrows drew together and his mouth was a agape. "And are you... my queen?"

Her reply was a searing kiss.

"I must be truly blessed by the Gods to have such a gorgeous creature by my side." Her laughter chased away her tears, and pierced straight to his heart. She nimbly climbed into his lap, cradled his face in her hands, and began to kiss him senseless. He placed his hands on the backs of her thighs and pulled her against him, relishing the feel of her body on his. He sighed into her mouth and she took it as an invitation to taste his tongue on hers, beginning an intricate dance between them.

A sense of urgency washed over them then; he trailed his mouth away from hers, and nibbled down her neck. "I don't have much time." She murmured into his ear.

"Don't go, stay here, with me." He began suckling on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"As much as I would love to..." she groaned. She pulled his head back to look into his eyes. "I promise that the rest of your birthdays we spend together are much more satisfying than this one." With that, she disappeared, leaving her mask the only indication that she was there.

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Darcy thew open the bathroom door and headed straight for Loki, who was standing in the kitchen. "I was beginning to wonder," he started to say, but then his eyes froze on her, darkening with hunger. "I remember that dress." He absent mindedly conjured a golden mask as she sashayed towards him with a purpose.

"I don't want to go to the party anymore." She pulled the mask from his hand and kissed him harshly on the lips. Loki wrapped his arms around her and teleported them into their bedroom.

They were snuggled under the satin sheets, basking in the afterglow, when the clock struck midnight. Cries of "Happy New Year" rang throughout the streets and joyous ruckus reverberated against the buildings from the party upstairs. Their room burst with light as fireworks exploded in the distance.

It was now 2018. She couldn't help but wonder how much time they had left together. Years? Months? Weeks? Days? She couldn't be sure.

"Happy Birthday, Darcy." His soothing voice pierced the dark silence. She held him closer and kissed his chest. For right now, she would just have to live as much as she could in whatever amount of time she had left.


	4. La Douleur Exquise

**AN:** Holy update, Batman! This is by far one of my longest chapters ever!  
I wanted to use my headcanons from various scenes from the movie to develop their relationship.

I know it's not canon for Loki to be over 3,000 years old, so I am taking creative license with his age to serve my own purposes. Plus, it makes the pining that much more angsty!

A lot of people have commented that this story closely mimics that of The Doctor and River Song. And while I have Dr. Who on my to-watch list, I have never actually seen any of it, so I'm sorry if it comes across that way, but it was not my intention at all!

Thanks for all the kudos/subscriptions and comments! It means a lot!

Recommended Listening: Lacrymosa- Mozart

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_La Douleur Exquise_

_A French expression, literally "the exquisite pain", describing the heartache of wanting someone you can't have._

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Loki's image shimmered away with the swirling snow from the storm on Jotunheim. The coup was confirmed, everything was in order. He gave an involuntary shiver as he opened his eyes, the features of his private chambers filling his view as he sat on the floor. It's not that he was jealous of Thor—his coronation was only days away—but Thor wasn't ready for the responsibility, and Loki had it on a good source that he was going to be king. After his last discussion with Darcy, 750 years ago, he deduced that he simply needed to take measures into his own hands to secure their future. Patience was a golden virtue, but Loki certainly didn't identify himself as virtuous.

Thor's reaction against the Jotuns and subsequent banishment had gone not _quite_ as planned, but worked perfectly to his advantage… However, the information gleaned from their battle was something Loki was not expecting. Not in the slightest. He was… a Jotun? His world was turned upside down. Everything seemed…tainted.

Loki remembered his first moments with Darcy. Was that why she appeared as a Jotun before him? Pity for the monster she loved, so he wouldn't feel so alone? All the energy he had pent up inside of him… He could feel his magic surging violently within him. The hard steps he took as he paced around his room just weren't cutting it for him. How could she love a monster? How could she ever love him?

He found himself in the weapons vault, curious and desperate to see himself the way she obviously saw him. Loki could feel the power course through him, altering him physically, as he picked up the Casket of Ancient Winters. His skin faded to a deep blue, and ridges rose along his body similar to the ones he'd seen on Darcy. His heart was breaking. But his eyes… How could she look at him with love and devotion when he looked like this? His pulse was racing, and there was an acrid taste in his mouth. Oh Gods, he was going to be ill.

Loki didn't mean to force Odin into his Odinsleep, but he was hurting, and his emotions were rolling a violent sea within him. But when the Einharjar presented Gungnir to him on bent knee… Was this the beginning? If so, how much time would pass before he was introduced to his queen, allowing their relationship to become more linear than the previous to visits? He was excited at the prospect as he reached out for the staff.

But once the metal touched his skin, and he felt the power held within… Everything felt to be exactly in place… Everything felt right. It's strength seared into his bloodstream, coursing through his veins. It was so potent… like nothing he'd ever felt before—exhilarating beyond his wildest imagination. He was now the most powerful being in all the nine realms… and for the first time in over millennia, the promise of encountering a certain time traveler was easily forgotten.

Nothing mattered but the weight of the gold in his hands; the power surging through his body.

He pulled at the handle of his brother's weapon, embedded deep in the ground, not surprised in the slightest when his efforts were fruitless. Of course. Odin would never deem a Frost Giant worthy of the power of Mjölnir. He curled his upper lip and turned away, clenching his jaw in frustration. Loki left the center of the compound, wandering the narrow pathways, disgusted at the primitive creatures around him.

Over the chatter of the insignificant Midgardians and their laughable attempt at deciphering the hammer and the man captive within their quarters, he heard a name, _Darcy Lewis_. Unmistakable. Could it be her? His features softened and he headed straight for the source; the bottom of his long, black trench coat swaying to his steps, marked with purpose.

"What's a Poly-Sci major doing working with an astrophysicist?" one man questioned another.

He peered over the shoulders of the two men at the machines long enough to get an address for somewhere in the small town nearby.

Loki was nervous and slightly conflicted as he made his way towards the town. If this person did turn out to be his Darcy…? He had to admit he would be disappointed at her being human… Yes. He knew she was some sort of mortal, but he never would have expected her to be _that_ mortal. Humans were a blink of an eye to one such as him. And they were so fragile. His hands curled into fists in his pockets. She was going to die young. So very young. And there was nothing he could do about it, but watch. And then what? Would he remain solitary for the rest of his life? Never to take another? He paused a moment to stare at the night sky, searching for answers and asking for comfort. But the view was so very different than the one he was used to.

"It's just my luck… to travel myself stranded out in the desert." A disgruntled voice carried over the cool night air, and Loki snapped his head towards the sound. A small figure was traversing the barren land not far from where he was. She was walking hastily; kicking rocks here and there in anger and muttering curses under her breath.

It didn't take much for him to catch up to her, his long legs quickly overtook the frustrated pace she had set in her small stature. "Darcy?" he called out.

Startled, she whirled around, pulling some sort of weapon from her pocket and holding it level with his chest. "Stop right there, buddy. Hands up where I can see them, or I'm going to fill your ass with 50,000 volts of electricity; and don't think I'm bluffing because I already took down the God of Thunder this week."

_Gods, finally_. It was her. Under some sort of cap and a mass of curls, there she was. So young. His hands rose in surrender, and a smile swept across his face. My, my, she was feisty. A woman who didn't have any fight in her truly wasn't his taste. "I assure you, I mean you no harm."

"Who are you? How do you know my name? And what the_ fuck_ are you doing following me around in the middle of the New Mexican desert at one in the morning?" She was nothing, if not authoritative in her commands.

"I am Loki, of Asgard," he began, lowering his hands to his sides.

"Another one?" she whined.

"I believe you mentioned that you've already met my brother, Thor?"

She furrowed her brows and nodded. "And you know me because…?"

"Ah, yes. I know you because I have met you before."

"I'm pretty sure that we haven't met. You're not exactly someone who seems…forgettable." She licked her lips and looked him up and down in the pale moonlight.

"You first came to me over a millennium ago, and you explained that we would eventually meet, but not when."

"So, you know me because I travel?"

"Yes."

"Huh," she said, lowering her weapon. "Want to come back to my place and you can tell me all about… well me?"

The hike to town only took about fifteen minutes, and Darcy kept them company; asking simple question about his life. How old was he, anyway? What were his godly duties? And was he here to take Thor back to Asgard? He answered her inquiries with as much honesty as he could muster. He was 3,250; the God of Choas, Mischief and Lies; and no, he was not on Earth to take Thor back to Asgard, merely to relay a message.

She led them towards a small establishment, "Isabelle's Diner" was written in some sort of illuminated writing through the windows. She walked to the side of the building, next to something called a "Laundromat" and unlocked a door leading to a flight of stairs. Darcy unlocked the door at the top landing, as well.

Her apartment took him by surprise. It was a humble abode, and quaint in its Midgardian furnishings. Bookshelf after bookshelf lined the walls, each filled past capacity with literature of various titles. Loki was impressed, to say the least; and the evidence of her extensive reading habits reminded him of his own chambers. Darcy disrobed from her jacket and removed her cap, hanging them on hooks near the door. His eyes couldn't help but drink in the sight of her soft cotton top, clinging to her every curve, and yet being modest in its cut. "I'm going to start some tea." Loki gave a small cough and his eyes snapped to hers. "Make yourself at home," she called and headed towards what must have been the apartment's kitchen, a lamp flicked on in her wake, leaving a soft glow to the room. Loki headed over to inspect her reading materials. He was looking at a large tome concerning a theory of space and time—a concept well known to him, but one of which Midgardians had yet to fully grasp—when she returned.

She was carrying two mugs in her hands, the aroma steaming from them carrying floral notes he could not identify. When she went to hand him one, he spoke. "Thank you, but I must politely decline, for I am not entirely here." Darcy gave him a skeptical look, but nodded and sat down on an old wooden rocking chair, legs folding underneath her, cradling the warm beverage in her hands while leaving the other mug on the coffee table. Loki positioned his specter in the chair opposite from her. "I am merely projecting a specter of myself here on Midgard. My corporeal form is attending to matters on Asgard."

"So you can duplicate yourself?"

"To an extent, yes." A thought passed behind her eyes, but he couldn't decipher what she was thinking. Darcy raised the mug to her lips and took a long drink.

"So, how did we meet?"

Loki had been expecting this question, but he didn't want to tell her the whole answer all the same. Would it crush her to know that he had seen her die? Yet… when he thought back to their last encounter, Darcy was shocked at the news of her demise… so she must not have found out, in her lifetime, until she visited him on his 2,500th birthday.

"You appeared in my chambers and disappeared shortly thereafter, but not before telling me that you were a time traveler. I also sensed that you had extensive wards by my magic protecting your person." Partial truths, after all, were not true lies. "You also told me that you loved me." The look in Darcy's eyes was hard to read; they seemed to have brightened, but at the same time, they appeared apprehensive at the information. Loki continued. "The second time I saw you, you stayed a little while longer, and you were rather… affectionate." He smiled at the memory. Darcy narrowed her eyes, then, but there was a playfulness in her gaze. Loki challenged her stare for a moment before speaking. "But that is the extent of my knowledge of you, Darcy."

"Well, what would you like to know?"

It was such a foreign concept to him, having her in his presence, not worrying about the minutes until she would disappear. This was Darcy in present time. A hope he hadn't realized he'd buried inside of him, bubbled to the surface. "Everything," he smiled. "I want to know everything." Her life was a mere twenty-one years. Not even close to a single percent of his thousands. Yet, she gave him all the detail that she could muster.

Her full name was Darcy Avery Lewis. She grew up in Connecticut where she and her two brothers, Thomas and Adrien, were raised by their paternal grandmother, Iva. Her favorite color was plum. She preferred dogs over cats. Her favorite teas were chai and jasmine. Waffles were one of her favorite foods—really, there were too many to actually list, but given the late hour, with the sun coming up, and breakfast wafting up from Izzy's—she was a little biased at the moment. Darcy loved all facets of literature, although she preferred thrillers and fantasy to nonfiction. She kept a journal, documenting all of her travels. She found robin songs to be the most peaceful; their melodies could be softly heard in the early morning. She didn't mind living in New Mexico, but the one thing she missed the most about her childhood home was the winter: the silence of snowfall, the whir of the wind in the trees, and the crispness of the air on her face.

Darcy explained that although she was focusing her studies at Culver on political science, once she had stumbled across the application for an internship with Jane Foster, she couldn't let the opportunity slip away. Jane's research revolved around worm holes and travel through time and space. As a teleporting time traveler, the knowledge that Darcy could learn from Jane was invaluable. What if, eventually, Jane's work would help Darcy find more people like herself? It was a question she often asked herself.

Loki desperately wanted her to keep going, but he could see her fatigue. Darcy's posture had slid into a relaxed slouch, and her eyes were drooping. She was stifling a yawn when he stood. "As much as I want to stay, I can see you are clearly in need of rest."

"Yeah, I need to get to bed," was her groggy reply. She gently rose and stretched her muscles, standing on the tips of her toes, pulling her arms above her head as high as they could go, her back arching with relief. "Every day with Jane is a long day, and I'll bet tomorrow won't be an exception."

Loki smiled and nodded. "It has truly been a pleasure to have finally met you, Darcy Lewis of Midgard. I have waited a very, very long time for this moment." His last sentence was quiet as an unfamiliar wave of shyness overtook him. A blush crept up his cheeks and he lowered his head to avert her gaze. After a moment of silence, he mustered the courage to meet her gaze and stepped towards her; the distance between them swallowed by his one step. "Goodnight, Darcy," he whispered before bending his head to place a chaste kiss on her cheeks. In this form, all she could have felt was a slight drop in temperature, but the sentiment behind the gesture was more important. Loki disappeared in a green shimmer, but not before seeing one of her hands cover the part of her cheek he had just kissed.

The confrontation he'd gotten into with Heimdal had grated against his nerves. When Loki reached the palace, he headed straight to his quarters, shedding the bulkiest parts of his armor as he entered. When he was satisfied with his state of undress, he sank to the floor in a meditative position. If one thing could soothe his nerves and distract him from new complications, it was Darcy Lewis.

He exhaled and let his mind wander… sifting through the various sub-consciousnesses floating about like leaves in the tree of Yggdrasil. A familiar hum drifted through his ears and he smiled. There she was.

Darcy was sleeping, and he called her dream orb to him, the bubble floating closer at his command. It was exhilarating to finally have her company in the current time. He had waited far too long to catch up with her, but alas, all good things come with patience.

Her dreamscape was a rolling tempest. He found himself in a clearing near a tree with lots of hanging tendrils, each of the spindles whipping violently in the harsh wind. Despite the numerous claps of thunder, and the flashes of lightning, there was no rain—just an eerie, roaring sound in the distance. Having grown up with Thor, thunderstorms held no effect over him. Regardless, something wasn't right.

An extremely close bolt of lightning blinded him momentarily. When he opened his eyes, there was a small girl some meters in front of him, wearing a nightgown, her curly hair blowing madly in the wind. Her back was to him, and she seemed fixated on something downhill from their point of view. He made a motion to step towards the child, when a bloodcurdling scream erupted from her. "NO!" her shrill pitch pierced through the storm and caused him to freeze in his tracks. The little girl did not appear frightened. She sounded absolutely outraged and continued howling, a white-knuckle grip ripping at her clothes. His curiosity took over, needing to see what was to unfold; so Loki remained quiet and stayed put.

A sickening sound of splintering wood erupted from below them and she immediately silenced. Another streak of lightning lit up the sky and revealed the source of the horrific noise. A massive black, swirling vortex was elegantly ripping apart a house, debris flying everywhere. The tornado headed away from them, leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake—almost like breadcrumbs from a popular Midgardian folktale. The heavy roar died down with its distance, enough so, that Loki could make out the sounds of the little girl crying. She had sunk to her knees, apathetic to the mud soaking into her gown and covering her legs. She just stared at the carnage of where the house once was. "No no no no no," she repeated over and over again; her voice growing heartbreakingly tiny.

"Darcy?" Loki said as he approached her, kneeling down beside her.

"This is the first time I ever traveled," She said, sounding much more knowledgeable than her youthful appearance. She didn't look at him, and he stayed silent; comparing her features when he could make them out in the lightning, the thunder now far off in the distance. Yes, it was her. He recognized the shape of her blue eyes, and the softness of her face, the woman that she would grow into was hiding just under the surface.

"It's the night my parents died." She turned towards him, her voice unnervingly calm. "The curse of time travel is that I constantly relive this moment, whether it manifests itself as an anguishing nightmare, or I travel to the actual moment, I'm always a bystander—always watching the people that I love die and there is nothing I can do about it."

"The terrifying truth that you will experience their death again is..." he paused a moment, his memories taking him back over two thousand years—to the young boy cradling the dying girl who loved him. He struggled to find the words. "It's something that will haunt you for the rest of your life. The uncertainty of when it will happen..." Darcy looked at him then, and nodded; her blue eyes wide and questioning at his complete understanding. He held his tongue, not willing to give up that secret just yet. Instead, he considered another.

"Darcy, there is something you must know about me." He stood up and began pacing away from her. He wanted so badly to confide in her—to tell her about his inner turmoil at the discovery of his true parentage. Surely, if one person in all the realms were to be accepting, it would be the woman who would become his wife; and she obviously became aware at some point in time, it might as well be now.

"What?" She asked, wiping as much mud off as she could while she got up.

"As it turns out, I am not Asgardian." Darcy's confused expression looked so much more perplexed upon her younger countenance. "I am Jotun."

"Jotun?"

"A frost giant." Loki did his best to hold back the bite in his tone.

"You don't look like one," she commented.

"Because this form is one apparently created from instinctual magic, and not my true appearance."

"I don't understand."

"The Jotun king, Laufey, abandoned me at birth, whereupon Odin discovered me... I was powerful enough in my infancy to alter my appearance to those around me."

"What do you really look like, then?" she asked quietly.

Loki's nostrils flared as he exhaled. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but slowly, his skin faded from the pristine paleness of an Asgardian, to the cold blue of a Jotun. "I am a monster." Slowly, he met her gaze to gauge her reaction, knowing full well that his most frightening feature was, in fact, the crimson color of his eyes.

Darcy studied him intently, her face revealing no sign of emotion. He patiently waited for her to run from him, screaming in horror. Instead, she rushed towards him, aging in the process, changing and growing from the little girl in the dream to the young woman he'd just met. As soon as she reached him, she pulled his face to hers and pressed her lips against his. "You're not a monster," she reassured him.

"To Odin, my true parentage automatically eradicates any possibility of my ascension to the throne." Loki brushed some of Darcy's hair behind her ears, changing back into his Asgardian form. "I have to prove to him that I am more worthy of the crown than Thor and all his belligerence." He pulled her into a hug then, running his fingers through her hair. She started to say something; her voice a quiet, muffled protest into the leather of his vest, but he spoke over of her. "The only way I can ensure my coronation is to sneak Laufey into Asgard, and then kill him myself."

"What?" Darcy pushed away from him then. "You would murder someone for self-gain?" He went to speak, but she continued. "And in such a way to make yourself the hero? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Darcy, I see no other way."

"Other way?! It's not like you can be certain that your dad will let you keep the throne."

"Oh, but I am."

"How?" she asked, slowly backing away from him.

"You told me."

"If what I told you was true, then it would happen naturally. It's not something that you can force or something that you can change just because you know about it. Believe me, I've tried. You just have to be patient. Don't do this."

He was striding towards her now; and when her back was against the tree, he caged her in with his arms. "And you are my queen."

"You can't possibly think that I would want to spend the rest of my life with someone who kills people when he doesn't get what he wants. It's such a cop-out—a weakness." She was holding her ground against him with an iron fist and fire in her eyes.

"Oh, Darcy, not to give you a taste of your own medicine, but, the future where you love me _will_ come to pass, and you will spend the rest of your life with me; no matter how much you deny it now." Her eyes were far away, thinking over all the information he'd gleaned about her future self, no doubt.

There were tears in her eyes when she finally looked at him again, her chin was tilted in defiance, and the anger surging through her was almost palpable. "Then at least I can count on the fact that I won't be around forever."

The world around them seemed to crumble away, and Loki found himself alone on his floor. Darcy's last words had struck the raw endings of a nerve he'd buried deep. She would rather die than spend her life with him? His mouth hung open. It was a shock to him, to think that she might be able to do something to change the outcome he had been planning on. Quite possibly, he just lost the woman who loved him so much, she died for him. Loki could still feel the ringing of her animosity in his ears.

He could still do this, he told himself as he placed the staff into the Bifrost. Thor had nearly ruined his plans, but he could still do this. Loki watched with satisfaction as the full power of the Bifrost was unleashed upon Jotunheim. Let it erase his people so that no one would know he was one of them.

Thor entered with all his righteousness; it was sickening. There was no way that Loki was going to let anything stop him now. He wanted nothing more than to rid the world of the monsters that plagued the stories of his youth. The monster deep down that he refused to accept.

Loki felt his heart clench when Thor, ever the hero, wanted to save the Jotuns. There was no way he could have known about their family's dirty little secret. Bless his heart; he might actually be accepting of Loki's condition. No matter, Loki still had Gungnir; he still had all the power of the realms.

They faced off inside the Bifrost site, Yggdrasil visibly solidifying with the power surging through it. Loki scoffed when Thor refused to fight him and he was curious to find the answer. Was it really the human woman that changed him so? His ever quick, silver tongue bit out his question. But, hadn't Darcy changed Loki irrevocably? From the moment she appeared in his arms all those years ago, he had changed. Everything he wanted out of life had changed. He wanted her. But the power was still coursing through him. And although Darcy had rejected him, he hadn't given up on the idea of being king. He'd merely given up hope on her. Something, some memory in the back of his mind, left a bitter taste in his mouth. His mind had been tainted, drunk on his new power.

Loki and Thor burst through the structure of the Bifrost and landed on the bridge. As a trickster, there was no way he could resist casting a specter off the edge, playing to his brother's never-ending love for him. But the bite of Thor's lightning caused him to curse the gods. And he wasn't expecting the big oaf to place his hammer on his chest; the weight crushing him into the bridge. Loki was going to win. He would have laughed had it been easier to breathe.

"Look at you, the mighty Thor, with all your strength and what good does it do you now? Do you hear me brother? There's nothing you can do!"

Suddenly, the hammer flew off his chest, and Loki struggled to sit up, looking on in horror as Thor began to destroy the bridge with blow after blow from Mjölnir.

"What are you doing?" He was in complete disbelief. "If you destroy the bridge, you'll never see her again!" He could care less about Thor's petty love interest... but Loki wouldn't be able to see Darcy again either. And he realized at the moment where he just might lose her again, forever, the promise that he'd made to her while she died in his arms— that he wouldn't give up on her. It took all the strength he could muster from being under the hammer, but he rose to his feet to stop his brother.

The explosion from the bridge as it ruptured blasted him back with so much energy. Everything was silent except for the ringing in his ears; the light blinding his eyes. His stomach twisted with the sickening motion of being tossed around in the air. He blinked furiously as he fell, desperately trying to restore his vision and orient himself in the free fall.

He grabbed a hold of Gungnir at the last moment and Thor wrapped his mighty grip around the staff as well. Both princes of Asgard were held over the precipice to the nine realms by the Allfather. Loki had used his silver tongue to try and gain forgiveness and understanding, but when the man he had called his father rejected him, he felt nothing but despair. His family would never understand the things he did or why… And Darcy… she didn't want him either.

So Loki made a decision. He let go. He let them all go.


	5. Accismus

**AN: **I had to break up this next chapter, otherwise you'd have a 10k+ worded behemoth and I didn't want it to seem tl;dr. This chapter starts to follow the events of The Avengers.

_**TRIGGER WARNING!**_ There is a noncon scene when Loki talks to The Other. I have it marked (a small paragraph), so you can skip it if you want. It's not super important, so don't worry about missing any plot if you don't read it.

Suggested Listening: The Village Main Theme - James Newton Howard

* * *

_Accismus_

_From the Greek, "coyness"; feigning disinterest in something while actually desiring it._

* * *

Darcy had come a long way, and it was all going to pay off. It was a beautiful day in Willowdale; no humidity, full sun, and a slight breeze blowing the hem of her gown. She stood just off the side of the stage, adjusting her cords and sash, straightening her tassel. She both heard it, and did not, when her name was called. _Darcy Avery Lewis, Bachelor of Science, Summa cum Laude, with honors in Political Science_. She walked across the stage with a smile on her face and shook the hand of Culver's President as she reached for her diploma case. She vaguely remembers hearing the wolf whistles of her brothers, Tom and Adrien; the shrill pitch of Jane's enthusiasm; and a baritone voice shouting something that just didn't_ quite_ sound like English followed by her name. She smiled proudly as she made her way back to her seat. She worked so hard for this.

After the ceremony, Darcy and her loving supporters had a celebratory dinner at a local seafood place. Her brothers, predictably, both ordered lobster tails; Jane had a lovely and aromatic lemon sea bass, one of her favorites; and Erik had a pile of oysters on a formidable plate. Darcy heartily dug into her all-time favorite: a coconut shrimp platter with a to-die for Hawaiian sauce. A particular scene involving Emma Stone in _Easy A_ popped into her head. Darcy crossed her eyes and moaned; content with conceiving a food baby.

"Could somebody pass me another one of those heavenly cheddar biscuits?" She said before biting into a shrimp.

"So what's our little sister going to do now that she's official a member of adult society?" Tom said, throwing the biscuit at her. Darcy caught the roll with a show of impressive reflex skills.

"Well," She began, ripping off pieces of the bread and putting it in her mouth. "I would like to stay working with the ever intelligent Jane Foster; that is, if she'll have me." Darcy winked at Jane from across the table, putting another piece of biscuit in her mouth.

"I suppose…" Jane began, the tone in her voice sounding completely exhausted. "It's not like we had any people who may have been more qualified apply in the past four years." Jane's lips smiled around her fork as she took a bite of her fish. Darcy threw the paltry remainder of her biscuit at the scientist.

"Anyone who can decipher your chicken scratch of handwriting deserves a Noble Peace Prize, Jane. And Darcy translates your frenzied thoughts into something coherent with unbelievable speed."

"Thank you, Erik." Darcy sat back in her chair and sighed with contentment as she cradled her engorged stomach.

"Besides, Darce, there isn't anyone more perfect to assist a famous astrophysicist studying interplanetary travel and worm holes than someone with your… condition." Adrien chipped in.

"That's what I keep telling myself, literally."

After everyone else partook in a few rounds of drinks in celebration, Darcy having her customary one, they called it a night. Erik came around and gave Darcy a big hug, congratulating her and telling her how proud he was. There was a sparkle to his eyes, almost like they were shining brighter or he was tearing up; Darcy felt touched at the sentiment. Erik turned and gave a hug to Jane, then shook Tom and Adrien's hands before hailing a cab to the airport. He had an important meeting the next day and was flying back out to somewhere in the Mojave desert to meet with a director of some research program of which he had been working diligently for the past few months.

The four returned to their hotel. Tom and Adrien invited the girls back to their room to hang out, but Darcy quickly, and politely, declined. They exchanged tired goodnights and headed off to their rooms. The twins had both had enormous crushes on Jane ever since they met her, and Darcy wasn't going to encourage interaction that would lead to a disappointing outcome for the two of them. It was just damn near impossible to compete with a god.

Darcy thought about a certain deity who had pursued her as they walked through the posh hallway. Other than having mental stability, it was hard to compete against Loki. She wondered where he was now; she hadn't let herself think about him since she saw Thor annihilate the Destroyer that Loki had sent to Earth. He hadn't tried to contact her again. She was thankful for that. Darcy engrossed herself in her studies and focused on finishing her degree, burying deep the pull they had towards one another.

She and Jane immediately kicked off their heels when they keyed through the door. Darcy plopped down on her bed while Jane went to the bathroom and began taking out her earrings.

"Do you really relay information to yourself?" Darcy made eye contact with Jane's reflection in the mirror as she continued her ministrations. Although Jane knew about Darcy's secret—she had to explain her sudden disappearances eventually—Jane had never really asked for details; which, for the scientist, was pretty rare. It looked like tonight was the night to finally satisfy her curiosity and Darcy would oblige.

"Nah. Traveling isn't _that _exciting. I've never actually seen myself."

"Really?" Jane asked, a comical expression on her face as she began to remove her eye makeup.

"Mhmm. It's not like I could even win the lottery, or anything cool for self-gain, because I've never even traveled into the future before. I just always seem to go back to the past. And none of it is really interesting. I either go back to the night my parents died or to some mundane day in my existence."

"You go back to the night your parents died? I'm really sorry, Darce, that must be really painful." Jane rinsed her face, and noted the complete silence from the other room as she toweled off. "Darcy?" She walked out of the bathroom, and found the bedroom empty.

* * *

Darcy's bare feet were sucking up the cold from the marble floor, making her shiver. She had no idea where she was… She explored the room with timid steps, listening for any noise and taking in her gilded surroundings. Tapestry after tapestry hung from the ceiling, and she weaved between them; each one depicted a different scene. As Darcy headed to the front of the room, she could hear the soft melody of someone humming. There was a standalone bookshelf separating her from whoever was on the other side. Darcy flattened her body against it, and peered around the corner, isolating every muscle in her movements to help conceal her location.

A beautiful woman was sitting at a loom; her long, golden hair in an intricate braid around her head and falling down her back. The soft material of her regal gown swished as she moved her hands over the threads. She was working on a vast tapestry. At such a stage of progress, it was hard to discern anything of meaning, but it seemed like the fabric was going to depict a wedding or maybe a coronation. The gold threads of the material exuded a royal air; and, two people, a man and a woman, had their backs to a large crowd in a magnificent hall. The woman kept working, humming in contentment, adding a metallic blue thread to the theme of the room.

The woman paused a moment, seeming to sense a presence. Darcy was pretty sure the jig was up, and was about to step around from her hiding spot, hands held high in surrender, when the woman continued her work.

"And what have you done now, my son?" A young, dark haired boy stepped from behind tapestries opposite from Darcy's position. His hands were behind his back and he looked rather guilty. "Loki?" The woman's tone was commanding as she sat back and waited for an explanation.

_Loki?_ Darcy was absolutely bewildered. Surely his name was a weird coincidence… maybe it got popular over the past few years? But the more she examined the boy before her, the more she recognized him as the man she ran into in the desert about a year ago. Was this little boy _the_ Loki? God of Mischief extraordinaire? Thor's brother? Did that mean that she was on Asgard? If all of those things were true, then _when_ the hell was she? Thousands of years in the past? Her stomach churned violently.

"I turned Sif's hair black." The boy stated.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"I asked the orb to show me who I was going to marry, and I saw a girl with dark hair"

"Loki," The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just because you saw something in the orb, doesn't mean you can change things now so they work out the way that you want them to. The future doesn't work that way. Time doesn't allow it." The poor boy looked deflated at his mother's words. "Besides, since when have maidens interested my sweet, little boy? For as long as I can remember, you couldn't care less about what little girls thought about you, preferring to have your nose buried in your books." A warm smile spread across her face.

"I just wanted assurance that I'm not going to be alone; that I'm going to be happy." Loki was rocking back and forth, shuffling his feet, and staring at the ground; obviously embarrassed by admitting his fears.

"Oh, Loki," she pulled him in to a tight hug, stroking his back. "Don't worry, my son." She pulled away slightly and gestured towards the tapestry that she was completing. "Happiness is obtainable, but not without a lot of work. You must be willing to make sacrifices and compromise. But one day, you will have everything that you've wanted." One of her delicate hands pushed back a stray hair. "Now, go and apologize to Sif and then go straight to your room." Loki simply nodded, and left, unable to meet his mother's eyes.

The woman sat back in her chair and let out a sigh. "I suppose you can come out now, Lady Darcy."

Darcy's eyes grew wide, but she slowly stepped around the corner of the bookshelf. "How do you know my name?"

"I have been weaving your fate for quite some time, now. I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard." The woman gave a slight bow to her head, and Darcy tried to return the gesture, bowing a little too low; the movement obviously awkward and unfamiliar to her. "Come now," she gestured to Darcy. When Darcy stepped closer, a glass orb appeared in the queen's hands. "Let us see what Time has in store for my son." Smoke misted in the ball, swirling until it formed a familiar scene. Darcy looked down at the tapestry, then back to the queen with a puzzled look on her face. The same image on the tapestry appeared in the little orb; Darcy's stomach began to knot.

The woman was in an elegant dress, dripping with blue crystals and an impossibly long train. She rested her hand on top of that of the slender man beside her; the unmistakable shades of gold and green of his regalia; his raven hair braided halfway back in an elegant style. Noble crowns rested atop both of their heads. Although the orb produced no sound of the scene, there seemed to be a moment of silence as the two turned towards each other; their heads bowed, timidly looking into one anothers' eyes. The view shifted, coming from Loki; and suddenly, she saw the girl in front of him—saw her through Loki's eyes. Tremblingly nervous. Breathtakingly beautiful. A happy future.

Frigga laughed, breaking the silence. "And herein lies the reason that poor Sif will forever have dark hair... He tried to turn her into you." Darcy looked pointedly at the woman, raising a pointed finger and opening her mouth to make a retort; but Time pulled her away.

* * *

It was a week after Darcy's graduation, she didn't hear the cars stop outside, and didn't see the men and women dressed in black suits approach her as she danced around Jane's lab, jamming out to a song on her new iPod, a gift from Agent Coulson. Jane was out in her trailer, changing out of her pjs at Darcy's behest. It was going on 2pm, after all.

Darcy's bouncing movement came to a complete halt when her headphones were ripped right out of her ears. She whipped around, spewing profanities, but stopped mid swear, taking in her surroundings- the team of agents, and Coulson himself, holding her earbuds in his hand.

"What are you guys doing here?" Darcy said, angrily snatching her headphones out of his hands.

"Hello to you, too, Darcy. As polite as always." Darcy shrugged at him in contempt. "Where is Dr. Foster?"

"I'm here," came a concerned voice. Jane was followed into the building by a few other guards. "What's going on?"

"We're going to send you to a lab in Norway. There are astrophysicists there that might be able to give you a fresh look at how to build your Einstein-Rosen bridge."

"Really?" Jane said, "That's great!"

Darcy leaned over a work table, skeptical, watching the reactions of the rest of the SHEILD agents in the room. Coulson had a pretty good poker face, but that wasn't exactly true for the rest of them.

"You have fifteen minutes to gather your things; we have a private jet standing by." Jane turned to Darcy, an excited look on her face. "Oh, and pack extra layers. It's still rather cold this time of year."

* * *

It was rather strange for him to be corporeal on Midgard, Loki thought as he gave orders to the people he'd had under his command. They were working on building a stabilizer that could activate a portal for the Tesseract. The minds of these people were expendable, nothing but a renewable resource for his needs.

Loki found a relatively deserted spot in his underground compound, and sat on the cool concrete floor, folding his legs underneath him, the scepter tight in his grip. The Tesseract had taught him a great many things. Not only could he teleport between realms when he had the cube in his possession, but it had shown him how to project a fully corporeal double of himself. With a deep breath, he cleared his mind and put on his war face.

Loki paced around the presence of The Other, unable to hold his tongue or arrogance as the veiled creature spoke before him. Yet, Loki refused to show any sign of weakness, there was too much they could use to torture him. He wasn't sure what all they knew when they pulled him from the deepest crevices of the universe. He had been so tortured in the void that he had called to Hel in surrender. When Thanos had found him, his agenda for universal control seemed like a fair trade for the throne of Midgard and Loki's knowledge of a queen to rule at his side. However, it seemed that Loki's attitude was not tolerated by the disgusting creature before him.

"If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you." His putrid breath almost made Loki gag as The Other walked around him. Loki could feel his adrenaline racing, his body re-experiencing the torment of the void. "You think you know pain?" He whispered from behind him. "He will make you long for something as sweet as pain." Six leathery fingers pressed into his face.

Screams pierced his mind. The world around him was chaotic, a mélange of places familiar, and places where he'd never been. His mother stood before him, betrayal weeping from her eyes. One of Loki's daggers was protruding from her chest. He could remember the feel of his blade breaking bones as he drove the weapon into her, the vibrations of the metal as her slowing heart beat around it.

_**/TriggerWarning**_

He heard his name being called from a distance; the voice was muddled as if it were under water, flooded with fear. Darcy was fighting him off, fighting with tooth and nail, anything that she could do to defend herself. Loki felt his hands tear her clothing, her screams for him to stop falling on deaf ears. His stomach was sick as he ravaged her. The ferrous smell of Midgardian blood perforated his senses. He seemed to regain his mind long enough to recognize the damage that he had done; tears slid down her cheeks, streaming from dead eyes.

_**/endTrigger Warning**_

Loki yanked his head away from the creature and returned to his body on Midgard. The nausea had yet to pass, and a sickening dizziness swept over him in a wave. He remained seated, breathing heavily, trying to erase the images from his mind and force the bile back down his throat.

He had tried so hard not to think of Darcy. Her rejection had left him in a broken state when he returned to Asgard. Yet, during his eternal fall, he could hardly think of anything else. Never before had he considered that she might not want him. Had their fate changed? Was this now his? He remembered the dying girl in his arms; the searing kiss from the heavenly creature hidden behind the mask. Would he never know her love?

When Thanos had rescued him, he squashed any sense of hope he began to feel at the prospect of seeing her again, not wanting Thanos to find any weakness in him. After all, lovers were so commonly used as mere casualties of war. So Loki did what he did best, he put on a façade and tried to hide those he cared about from the monster's view. But apparently, his best was not enough for Thanos.

Darcy and Jane had arrived at the lab in Tromso. They bravely faced the cold that th

* * *

ey were promised, but they were not expecting the twenty-four hour sunshine. Luckily, though, their cabin in the mountains blocked a lot of the midnight sun, just leaving them in a perpetual twilight.

Although their cabin was rustic and absolutely charming, they couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right. They shared equally raised eyebrows their first day in the lab, when not only did no one seem to even remotely understand or care about Jane's research, but none of the other scientists could give a specific answer as to the why Darcy and Jane were there.

"What is going on here?" Jane asked over her mug of hot chocolate as she and Darcy cuddled on the couch in front of the enormous fire place. They had turned off the TV, not interested in the local news streaming or any of the programs, all of which were in Norwegian. With their jet lag, they just couldn't take any of the actors seriously enough to invest time into trying to understand the show.

"They're hiding something, that's for sure. I just can't figure out if they're being secretive because they've discovered something, or if SHIELD placed us here for some other reason." Jane nodded in agreement, her eyes far away in thought. Darcy took a long sip from her mug before getting up. She came back from the hall that led to her bedroom, returning with her trusty laptop. "Well, do you want to find out?" she called out as she made her way back to the couch and the warm light of the fire.

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, putting her mug on the end table next to her and scooting closer to Darcy.

"I mean, I could hack into SHIELD to see if there is a more nefarious reason why people can't get their story straight here."

"I don't know Darce, what if SHEILD finds out what you're doing?"

"Oh ye of little faith." Darcy rolled her eyes, starting the computer and logging in. "As if I would leave a trail. I _did_ learn a thing or two from Natasha the last time she stopped by. Girl's got skills." Jane laughed, watching Darcy's fingers fly over the keys.

"How long is it going to take?" The astrophysicist asked.

"I'm not sure. Depends on how thick their security fire walls are and what methods I'll have to use. It'll most likely be something like a battering ram, needing to use brute force and thus, rather time consuming." Darcy let her program run while she and Jane continued to chat on the comfy couch, the heat and soft blankets lulling them into sleep. Jet lag was a serious pain in the ass.

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**AN: **Thanks for reading and everyone's continued support!  
Expect a very, very lengthy update here soon! (and I mean huge, no joke, total fic length is going to double!)


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